A New Album, Short Shorts, and Neil Young's Backstage Grub

Over the course of fourteen years and seven indispensable albums, Wilco have gone from being an alt-country cult favorite to an arena-filling national obsession. That’s largely because frontman Jeff Tweedy is the perfect modern rock star: part fragile genius, part good ol’ dad next door.

In an exclusive interview, he gives GQ a preview of Wilco’s still untitled new album and reviews the catering at Neil Young shows.—will welch

I was instructed to call you on Neil Finn’s assistant’s cell phone. Neil Finn from Crowded House. Huh?

I’m in New Zealand working on a charity record for Oam with Phil Selway and Ed O’Brien from Radiohead, Johnny Marr, KT Tunstall, and Bic Runga—he’s like a local celebrity here. I just did my first-ever overdub wearing shorts. You really shouldn’t be rocking in any way—at all—if you’re in shorts. Unless you’re Angus Young.

There’s the famous tale of AC/DC going to Jamaica to record Back in Black** and they’re wearing flip-flops, trying to rock. Finally they’re like “Fuck this,” and they go put their boots back on and get down to business.**

I identify with that. It’s a deep-seated psychological problem. But I guess there was something so frivolous about the overdub I was doing that the shorts seemed to work.

Are all you guys working on music together, or is it one-in, one-out at the studio?

It’s been a lot of collaboration—a lot of cross-pollination.

How’s it going so far?

Oh, it’s been great. The recordings part of it is wrapping up. We also did three shows here in Auckland that were really fun.

**With all those musicians in the mix, how did y’all decide what to play? **

It was kind of a review. There was one stage setup—everyone used the same backline, the same instruments. Each little group would get up and play a couple of songs and then hand it off to the next group. So yeah, it was a combination of people playing songs from their respective careers or bands or whatever, then some of the new stuff we’ve been working on together.

Are you excited about the way it turned out?

Absolutely. I think it’s gonna be a really great record.

You guys are working on a new album. There are obvious pitfalls in trying to ask you about a record I haven’t heard, so let me just ask it this way: What can we expect?

There’s a song called “Bull Black Nova” that feels like it might be a centerpiece. There’s a certain urgency and anxiety to it—it kind of sounds like there’s a phone off the hook somewhere. There’s a precise wildness to it. That might not sound appealing, to describe a song as anxious… [laughs]

Tell me more about this “precise wildness.”

I don’t know how to explain it. It’s a guitar-y kind of thing. It’s really frayed around the edges, but pretty orchestrated at the same time.

What about the song “One Wing”?

It’s one of the earlier songs that we recorded, and I guess that’s why it comes to mind as something that set the tone for this album. The record’s still evolving, so I don’t know if it’s ultimately gonna be that prominent of a song. To be honest, I’m now having trouble hearing it as as much of a centerpiece to the record as it seemed when it was the only thing we’d recorded [laughs]. There’s something epic about that track, though—and maybe, in general, there’s a lyrical element to this record that’s broader in scope. More character-driven tunes.

Are y’all recording at the loft in Chicago?

Mm-hmm.

It’s due out this summer. Have there been any crises in the making of the record?

No. There have been some technical snafus. Crises of confidence come with the territory, but those aren’t worth mentioning. In general, Wilco’s a remarkably strong community, and we always seem to be thriving in each other’s company. I know people don’t particularly believe those things about rock bands and maybe don’t particularly want to believe them, but we have a really familial relationship with each other, and it’s very similar to a family, except we don’t argue nearly as much.

What keeps you writing songs?

It doesn’t hurt anybody. It’s something I love to do, and it doesn’t hurt anybody. And the world probably doesn’t need any more songs, but I need more songs. It’s satisfying and lovely to do. I feel better, and as a band—I think I can speak for everyone—we feel better making something that wasn’t there ten minutes ago. Whatever spirit there is in the universe, I think that puts you closer to it. The act of creation, you know, it’s a very powerful thing, and very gratifying. I wish it on everyone. I wish everyone could enjoy making something that wasn’t there before.

You have been open about anxiety and your addiction to painkillers. Is there a downside to being so up-front?

I think that—to my advantage and maybe some of my friends’ disadvantage—I’ve always had this idea that people really want to hear every deep thought that crosses my mind. But I find it strange that people are more uncomfortable talking about mental-health issues than they are addiction. I think it’s a control thing. It’s more appealing and romantic if people destroy themselves. But mental illness just happens to you. People avoid topics that remind them how random and ambiguous things are. Whether it’s true or not, people have the belief that the addict can just stop. It’s perceived as something they’re doing to themselves. Obviously it’s a complex issue. There’s some truth to that, but there are a lot of misunderstood qualities about that notion.

Before the new album comes out, Wilco are releasing a live DVD called Ashes of American Flags** on April 18. What’s the concept?**

Initially the idea was just to have our friends that have been documenting different periods of the band over the last five years or so, here and there, come out and film some more shows that are interesting to us in terms of the venue. The venues are places that represent something that kind of doesn’t exist anymore. Like Cain’s Ballroom in Tulsa, Oklahoma, for instance—just sort of a disappearing part of America. These are places that, I guess in a romantic way, we identify as the best parts of America, the most unique. Regional places that still have a regional flavor. Not in any superdramatic way, but—I dunno—I just thought it’d be a nice backdrop for some of these songs and the ways this band does and doesn’t fit into certain landscapes. Wilco gets invited to play a lot of different places—folk festivals and blues festivals and experimental-music festivals in Europe. We spend a lot of time in a lot of different environments, and we don’t really seem to belong to any of them. This is another way of illustrating that.

After the documentary I Am Trying to Break Your Heart,** is it scary to have cameras around again? How do those two experiences relate?**

This is much more of a concert film. There is a narrative thread that [directors] Brendan [Canty] and Christoph [Green] are very conscious of and so artful about, but in addition to that it’s a concert film. The idea was just to get them to keep coming out to document shows. But at the end of filming this interesting period at these venues, I think they felt like there was a story line that made sense—something that would showcase these locations in a cool way that seemed complete. Otherwise we would’ve just kept the footage and put it into something that we’d amassed over a longer period of time.

Wilco recently opened for Neil Young. Give us a good backstage story, please.

Well, I must be hungry, because the first thing that comes to mind is the really delicious catering. The first show we did, in Halifax, they had some sort of local dessert called maple pudding. There’s a certain grittiness to it that I like.

Is Neil’s catering better than what Wilco’s opening bands get?

Generally, yes. We get good caterers, but we don’t bring them with us.

What Neil Young record have you listened to the most?

Tonight’s the Night. Easily.

Is it your favorite Neil Young album?

Yeah, I think so. If I made a list of my favorite songs from Neil Young’s career, it wouldn’t be all of those songs. It might not even be any of them. It’s more the idea of it as a record. It’s an insight into what a record can be. It’s like an anti-record or something, and something I think that Wilco kind of aspired to at some point. Maybe even to our detriment.

How so?

I don’t think you can manufacture that kind of mood or vibe. It was just a document of a place and time. I guess that’s what I mean more than anything. That record informed what it means to take a more documentary approach to record-making. Tonight’s the Night doesn’t feel finished. It also feels like a window into a particularly dark period of his life, and that’s pretty fascinating.

If Wilco were maybe grasping a little too hard at that once upon a time, how is that different now?

I don’t know, it just is. You learn. You just get better at making records. Whether or not they’re records anyone else wants to listen to, you get better at doing it. You get better at making records that you want to listen to.

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